


just you wait and see

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Hotel Sex, M/M, Office AU, Oral Sex, i skipped the friends part, there was also a lot of abstraction in relating this to only angel, trust me though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Harry mistakes Louis' flirting as an attempt to steal his job.





	just you wait and see

Harry Styles hates the new guy. He must have committed some kind of horrific act in a past life or something to deserve this, because he can’t recall any recent misdoings on his part. Whatever it was, it must have been bad, because Louis Tomlinson is trying to ruin his life.

Louis was transferred from a branch half the country away about two weeks ago, and since then, has managed to turn Harry’s comfortable, cosy office job into an absolute nightmare.

It all began with the teasing – that’s what his co-workers call it, but Harry knows Louis’ game. This is psychological. Louis wants Harry’s place as the office favourite. He wants the cushy corner cubicle, right next to the water cooler. He wants employee of the month, and all the free coffee that comes with it. And most importantly: he wants Barbara’s morning newspaper after she’s done with it. The one she usually gives to Harry so he can finish the sudoku puzzles.

But the thing is – and this thing is Harry’s main problem – nobody will believe him.

See, because Louis is nice to everyone else. The perfect employee, the perfect friend. It would be awe-inducing to watch him charm everyone with his quick wit and his stupidly pretty smile, if Harry didn’t know the truth – that Louis is evil.

Well.

Maybe not _evil_. But he’s up to no good, and that’s for sure.

And Harry knows this because in this game, this twisted game that Louis is playing, Louis is _never nice to Harry_. He’s the perfect Darling Angel Louis that everyone knows and loves, until the very second that they’re alone together.

And then the change happens.

Harry must take an entirely-too-long moment thinking about this, because somewhere off in the distance, he hears the clearing of a throat. His eyes lazily drift from the plain wall clock he was staring at, to the figure in front of him.

Ah. The Demon.

Harry blinks a few times, and takes a breath. “Sorry?”

Louis huffs out a little laugh. “I said, you might want to be less obvious about slacking off if you wanna keep your job, Styles. You’re on a thin thread already, I hear.”

Harry briefly remembers seeing him in the boss’ office a few days ago.

Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.

“Where did you hear that?”

Fuck.

Louis lets out that awful laugh again, and his eyes are sparkling, like he’s enjoying this. But of course he is – that’s his main goal. To eliminate Harry and have the sudoku all to himself.

He opens his mouth (presumably to speak, but what does Harry know) though Harry beats him to it. “You’re lying.”

“Bold accusation,” Louis comments, casually pushing aside all of the things on Harry’s desk to make room for his arse, managing to avoid Harry’s hands swatting at him while he does it. “Do you have any evidence to back that up?” he asks once seated.

Obviously he’s taking too long to come up with an answer, because Louis begins to rifle through his things. He kicks open a drawer and rummages through, eventually settling on a stapler, which he picks up to inspect. “This is mine now.”

Before he can even think about what a ridiculous action it is, Harry reaches out and snatches the stapler from his hands. “No. That’s my favourite stapler.”

Harry feels his cheeks heating up at Louis’ open expression of shock and – delight? “Your favourite stapler?” he asks incredulously. “Your favourite stapler. Of all the staplers you own, this is your favourite one?”

He sets it down next to Louis, willing the redness of his cheeks away. “Yes. I – I like the colour.”

It’s a beautiful coral colour, and it was gifted to him on his first anniversary working at the company. It’s even engraved with his name, so Louis can’t have it. Harry points out this fact just as Louis disobediently reaches for the stapler the second time.

“I want one with my name on it,” Louis states, looking at Harry as though he expects _Harry_ to buy him one.

“Well, you’ll get one if you manage to get through a whole year here,” Harry says primly.

“You mean if I haven’t replaced you first.”

Eyebrows raised slightly in shock at the bluntness of Louis’ statement, Harry cranes his neck and looks around the office to see if anyone heard the confession. And – of course. Nobody did.

For God’s sake, Samantha is practically close enough to _touch_ , and she hasn’t even looked up. Like this is normal. Does she know? Is she in on the plan?

And Harry thought Samantha liked him. He gave her half of a breakfast muffin, once, when he saw that she had forgotten her usual croissant.

Harry ought to put one less sugar into her coffee next time he makes her one.

That’ll show her.

But – back to the problem at hand. He snaps his head back to Louis, who’s still absentmindedly touching Harry’s possessions. “You’re just going to admit it like that?”

A slow smile spreads on Louis’ face, and he bites his lip before it can get too big. Harry doesn’t realise he’s doing the same until his lip starts to sting.

Slow and teasing, Louis leans forward. “Nobody will believe you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret between the two of them.

Harry recoils at how close Louis gets, pushing backwards on his chair. Louis begins to cackle, kicking his legs out as he leans back to let out a noise that he surely knows is far too loud for an office environment.

Flustered, yet not willing to concede, Harry rolls his chair back to his desk. “You came over here to taunt me?” he demands. He’s so busy trying to get over the fact that Louis would be so blatant about his devious plan that he doesn’t notice that, when his hand lands in his lap, it’s because Louis has kicked his arm off of the armrest on Harry’s chair to make room for his feet.

 “You’re getting mud on my chair!”

“Won’t be yours for much longer anyway.”

Harry makes an affronted noise. “I can’t believe you! You’re such a–“

“Shut up for a second, would you?”

Startled, Harry obeys.

“I can’t get you fired yet, because we’re working together on the proposal presentation for the newest client,” Louis explains, crossing his other ankle over the one resting on Harry’s chair.

Harry perks up in interest, jostling Louis’ legs. “We are? That’s… massive.”

“It is massive,” Louis confirms. “That’s why I need extra brainpower, and then I’ll get you fired the day before the presentation. So I can take the credit, you know?” he adds, as though Harry didn’t get the hint.

“You can’t do that. That won’t happen.”

“We’ll see.” Louis swings his legs down and hops off the desk. “I’ve booked the conference room for midday tomorrow.”

With that, Louis takes his leave, and it takes Harry another ten minutes to notice that his stapler is gone as well.

 

***

 

The next morning, when Harry settles in his cubicle with two cups of coffee (one for him, and one for Samantha, with the correct amount of sugars), the first thing Samantha does is bring up the upcoming work party.

“I was thinking about asking Ronan to go with me,” she confides, before beginning to blow on the surface of her coffee.

“You can’t just go on your own? It’s only a work party, you know.”

“Of _course not_ , Harry. This is my only chance to tell him!”

By ‘tell him’, Harry assumes she’s referring to the ridiculously obvious crush she’s had on Ronan for quite a few months. “Right,” he says. “You can’t tell him any other time?”

“The mood has to be perfect. I want it to be _romantic_.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, wanting to avoid deeper discussion on this topic.

“What about you?”

“Me?” he asks.

“Who are you going with?”

Harry holds back a scoff. “It’s not prom, you know. I can go on my own.”

“You mean you’re not going with Louis?”

Harry freezes. Why would he go with Louis? Why would Samantha _think_ he was going with Louis? Is this part of the plan?

“Harry?”

“No,” he says, very loudly, and very clearly.

“No?”

“Why would you think that?”

“I – I don’t know. I assumed you had a ‘thing’. You know, he’s… always over here, you’re always… flirting,” she trails off, hiding her face a little behind the mug.

“ _Flirting_ ,” Harry tries to deadpan. In reality, the word sounds absolutely flustered.

“You’re… you’re not flirting?”

Harry’s eyes flick down to his wristwatch, desperately searching for an out.

_11:15_.

Harry doesn’t begin to consider the implication of the fact that he’d rather actually spend time with Louis than have a conversation about him, but he doesn’t need to think about that right now. Right now, he needs to get out.

11:15 isn’t quite the ‘midday’ Louis had specified, but it’s close enough and it will have to do.

“Nope. Well, I really would love to stay and chat, but I have a presentation to plan for the new client in the conference room. Good afternoon, Sam,” Harry rushes.

And with that, he gets up and briskly walks away before she can protest or ask any more questions.

 

 

***

 

 

After mulling about and stalling as long as he could without seeming obvious, Harry finds himself in the conference room, alone.

The time is 11:28 and Harry has absolutely nothing to do for the next 32 minutes.

He shifts uncomfortably.

Maybe he can get started on the plan for the presentation. That would work. He doesn’t need Louis’ help anyway. And perhaps this will make Louis realise how serious Harry is about, well, not getting fired.

Harry knew Louis was after his spot as the office favourite, but he had no idea Louis was trying to get him _fired_. This is serious now. Or, more serious than it was before.

He’s going to show Louis.

Harry figures he can at least get the plan finished before Louis gets here. And then maybe Louis will realise how serious and competent Harry is. Maybe he’ll give up.

The plan is ruined when, at 11:33, the sound of the conference room door opening interrupts his work. If someone else is here, that means Louis didn’t book the room like he said he did. Great.

“Oh!”

And that’s.

That’s Louis.

“Harry! You’re here early.”

Harry realises belatedly that his mouth is open. He snaps it shut and takes a calming breath. “The chatter was distracting. About the party. Chatter about the party.”

Louis stares.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“You’re here early too,” Harry prompts.

“Oh!” Louis exclaims. He shakes his head minutely. “Yes. Me too. The party chatter.”

Harry’s subconscious seems to want to bask in the uncomfortable silence, because he can’t think of anything to say to that for at least twenty seconds, while Louis just looks at him. Eventually, he manages, “Sit down then. Let’s get started.”

“’Course, yeah.” Louis unzips his bag and pulls out a laptop as he walks over to the conference table. He sets it down on the desk right next to Harry’s, and sits in the chair beside him.

This move completely blindsides Harry because, well, this almost feels like when a stranger picks the urinal right next to him when the whole bathroom is empty.

Awkward and a little bit strange.

 Having nothing else to say, Harry opens his mouth to say something stupid and embarrassing like ‘hi’, but then Louis smiles.

Seeing it up close like this makes Harry understand how he’s charmed everyone so thoroughly, so quickly. He’s kind of breath-taking.

Objectively.

Because he’s trying to get Harry fired.

“I see you’ve already gotten started,” Louis comments, glancing over to Harry’s laptop, which currently has two windows open: an empty Word document, and solitaire.

It takes Harry a second to realise he’s staring, and follows Louis’ gaze instead. “Oh. I’ve only been here for a few minutes.”

“Good, because I’ve got a lot of ideas.”

“Your plan of making me do all the work and taking credit isn’t going ahead, then?” Harry snaps instinctively.

And there’s that smile again.

Harry doesn’t think it’s fair that someone so manipulative can be so beautiful.

“I suppose not.”

“Oh, you suppose not? That’s fine then. That’s just peachy.”

Louis’ smile turns into a small laugh, and watching it happen makes Harry feel like he’s kind of lucky to witness it.

He would feel a lot luckier if Louis actually liked him.

“Guess we’ll just have to work together then, won’t we, Harry?”

Hearing Louis say his name for the first time elicits an unexpectedly visceral response. The thing is, despite his evil plan, Harry begrudgingly finds himself enjoying Louis’ company sometimes. And for a second, this feels like they’re friends.

“Harry,” Harry says, before he can stop his traitorous mouth.

“That’s your name, yes.”

Harry can feel a furious flush making its way to his cheeks at how ridiculous he just sounded. “Just– just the first time you’ve said it. You always call me by my last name.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.” Harry looks back at the laptop screen. “Should we get started, then?”

“Oh!”

And before Harry knows what’s happening, Louis’ gently slapping a hand on Harry’s thigh. His entire body freezes up automatically as Louis squeezes. “Actually, do you mind if we work on paper for the plan?” His hand hasn’t moved. “I think I work better on paper.” It’s so warm, and Harry feels as though it’s a little high up for work standards. “It’s more creative, you know?” His entire body is tingling.

He takes a second to breathe, and Louis’ still touching him, watching him expectantly.

“Okay,” he agrees after a few long moments.

“Great. Thanks, Harry.”

He retracts his hand and Harry’s leg feels cold.

“I brought a few coloured marker pens with me. To get the creative juices flowing, you know?” Louis says as he reaches back down into his bag. Harry’s eyes accidentally fall to the stretch of his body, and stay there until Louis sits back up, pens in hand.

He drops them on the table along with an A4 notepad that’s… been decorated with stickers?

Louis must see Harry’s staring because he says, “I don’t like when things look boring. Just a notebook, innit? Can’t judge me.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Harry says slowly. “It definitely looks… interesting.”

“Interesting?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows.

“I mean. Fun. It looks fun. Better than anything else around here.”

Harry doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to be nice, why he’s even going out of his way to not hurt Louis’ feelings over a stickered notebook. It’s unnervingly endearing, and Harry doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like feeling endeared to the man who’s actively trying to steal his job and all of his friends.

“That’s more like it,” Louis says with a grin, and Harry realises why he’s bothering to be nice. “Let’s do this thing.”

 

***

 

 

After over two hours of constant planning, Harry concludes that he and Louis work together quite well.

For all his faults (well, his one fault), Louis can be professional when he needs to be. He comes up with some solid ideas and doesn’t appear to take criticism badly. All in all, in the time they had spent working, they had completed a considerable amount of work.

“It’s finished!” Louis announces at 13:45.

“The plan is finished,” Harry corrects, and makes sure to look away when he’s sure Louis is rolling his eyes. “How much longer do we have the room for?”

“Another two hours,” Louis answers, and Harry watches as he pushes his chair back to stretch his limbs. “I’m a little tired of working.”

Harry is, too, but.

Then he thinks of going back to his office cubicle. Back to Samantha who wants to talk about the office party and Ronan and Strictly Come Dancing.

“Why don’t we just take a break?” Harry offers. “We should make the most out of our time in here.”

Arms raised and stretched behind his neck, Louis twists a little to face him, considering. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “Tea?”

“If we leave here too long, someone will probably come in and take it, booking be damned. We should stay.”

“Alright,” Louis agrees easily. “What’s one to do, on a break in a conference room? Do laps?”

“I think the water cooler is a bit small for that,” Harry says.

It startles a laugh out of Louis, who drops out of his stretch and throws his head back. “I suppose you’re right. What else?”

Harry is so busy watching the bob of Louis’ neck as he talks that he almost says, _You could kiss me_.

Harry is so startled by his subconscious mind’s suggestion that he finds he can’t come up with a genuine suggestion. Louis must sense this, because he begins talking again. “If only I leave, we’ll be safe. Do you want coffee?”

And that’s… actually a viable plan that Harry can’t believe he didn’t come up with. “Okay, yeah.”

“See you on the other side.”

And with that, Louis hops up and leaves Harry with his thoughts.

Primarily, _What the fuck just happened_?

And, a little bit later, _He didn’t even ask how I take my coffee._

When Louis comes back, he hands Harry a perfectly made coffee. Harry decides to not ask.

 

***

 

Louis comes to visit him the next day at his cubicle. Branching from his usual plot (which involves visiting Harry, stealing his things, and then leaving), Louis actually brings him coffee.

“Thanks,” Harry says warily, eyeing the coffee as Louis hands it to him. He wonders if it’s been poisoned.

“Has this been poisoned?” he asks bluntly.

Louis shrugs, bringing his mug to his lips. Harry can’t help but notice the endearing way his sweater is pulled up around his palms to protect his hands from the heat. After a sip, he confesses, “The poison shop was closed this morning for renovation, so I had to settle with laxatives from Tesco Express.”

All at once, Harry’s eyebrows raise and his mouth drops all the way open. “Laxatives!”

“I wouldn’t be too worried; they were quite cheap. I suppose we’ll both find out today if they work.”

“And you expect me to drink this!”

Louis pauses at this, and seems to be searching Harry’s face. “It’s not actually got laxatives in, Harry.”

Harry eyes the coffee suspiciously, and gives it a sniff.

It smells like coffee.

“If you were going to poison me, you would wait until we’d finished the presentation.”

Louis lets out a noise that sounds almost like a giggle. “That’s the spirit,” he says. “Drink up.”

Harry does.

Halfway through his drink, Harry works up the courage to speak.

“I was wondering.” If staying up an extra half an hour thinking about something counts as ‘wondering’, anyway.

Louis makes a noise of acknowledgement mid-sip.

“How do you know how I like my coffee?”

Louis takes another sip. And another. Eventually, he says, “I guessed. It’s right, then?”

“It’s right. Perfect, actually. You have good coffee-making skills, for someone who drinks tea.”

“Harry! Was that a put-down? I had no idea you could!”

Harry sets his half-full coffee down, and stares intently at it, so he doesn’t find himself staring as Louis’ throat again. “I can be pretty scary if I’m defending coffee against that rubbish. Or my job,” he adds, because that’s important too.

“Rubbish!” Louis exclaims. “You look me in the eyes right this second, Harry.”

Of course, he obeys.

“Tea always has been, and always will be superior to that utter swill you call a drink.”

It’s only when Harry hears a splash that he tears his eyes away to look at his drink, which –

Which Louis is _pouring his tea into_.

Helpless to do anything now, he just watches his perfectly good coffee being ruined.

“I have the conference room at midday again. Enjoy your drink, _traitor_.”

 

 

***

 

 

Harry arrives, for the second day in a row, at 11:30. He feels a little ridiculous going so early again, but he figures if Louis arrives at midday and asks Harry will just lie and say he got there a couple of minutes ago.

Luckily for him, when he gets to the conference room, Louis is already waiting.

He sends Harry a blinding smile when the door opens. “I was hoping you’d get here early too. No pens this time, but I think we can whip up a sick PowerPoint,” he says as Harry walks over.

He only hesitates a second or two before sitting in the chair next to Louis.

 “What do we need to do today?” Harry asks, just for something to say, even though he already knows.

“Well, we need to get this shit–“ Louis gestures to the paper they had drawn on yesterday, “Into this shit,” he finishes, pointing at his laptop screen, which has PowerPoint open.

“Don’t we have to present it too?”

Louis pauses. His mouth opens, then closes. “About that. Technically, only I’m presenting this. I just needed some help.”

Harry _knew it_. “You mean you just wanted my input so you could take credit for my work?”

“Yes! Yes. Precisely. I wanted – I wanted input,” Louis says nervously. And he should be nervous, since he just got caught out. “You’re still going to help, though? We have – we have another four hours in this room.”

Why would he? He’ll just be wasting his time in here, time he could be using to complete valuable work, work he’s _supposed_ to be doing. Work he’ll at least get paid for. The fact that Louis is even asking is an absolute _insult_. The nerve of him.

But that’s not what he says.

“Of course I will.”

The smile returns, and everything is okay again.

Besides, Harry doesn’t _really_ mind contributing to this. This is for the good of the company. With this new client, Harry will most likely get a nice Christmas bonus.

And he can justify spending more time with Louis. In a… _keep your enemies closer_ kind of way.

 

 

***

 

The next few hours fly by, with work being completed at a fairly satisfactory pace. The PowerPoint has almost been compiled, and they’ve fallen into a comfortable silence.

“Are you going?” Louis asks suddenly.

“Going? Going where?”

Louis’ face scrunches up, and Harry forgets to breathe for a second. “Shit. Sorry, the party. Are you going?”

Harry nods in understanding. “I think I’ll go. Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering if I’ll see you there.” Louis falls into silence for a moment. “A lot of people are asking people to go.”

“I know,” Harry says, “It’s like prom.”

“You think it’s stupid?”

Harry turns his attention back to his laptop. “Yeah, a little. We’re adults.”

“Yeah,” Louis echoes, and that’s the last time they talk for a while.

 

 

***

 

The next time Harry sees Louis is that weekend. The company has rented out the function room of a gorgeous hotel, and Harry is just admiring the elegance of it all when he hears a familiar voice coming from the reception desk. Or, more precisely, arguing with someone at the reception desk.

“But I’m with this company! You should have me on there, I’m an employee!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s nothing we can do. We’re fully booked for this function,” a new voice drones. “There are no rooms left.”

“I know what fully booked means,” Louis snaps, just as Harry rounds the corner. “Thanks anyway.”

Louis is at the front of a long queue, with a duffel bag slung over one of his shoulders. He’s turned away from the reception desk, and he hasn’t managed to start moving yet before he spots Harry.

“Harry!”

“Hi, Louis,” he says distractedly, eyes flicking from the receptionist, to Louis’ duffel bag, to Louis. “What’s going on?”

Louis shrugs, and his bag almost slips off his shoulder. “Guess my room wasn’t booked.”

Harry tries to nod sympathetically, but he’s sure it just seems awkward. “Would make sense. You haven’t been working at the company for long.”

Louis gives a half-smile. “Must be that.”

They stand in silence for a moment. _You can stay in my room_.

“I’ll probably head home then. At least it’s not too far.”

_You can stay in my room_.

“Alright. I’m sorry about that, Louis.”

“Don’t be sorry, Haz.”

And – that’s what does it. The nickname.

“You can stay in my room,” Harry blurts, before he can think. “If you want.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Harry, objectively, doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to Louis, the man who is trying to get him fired, and at the least, trying to make everyone hate him. The subjective side of Harry enjoys Louis’ company and his pretty eyes.

“I don’t mind.”

“Wow, I – okay. Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much.”

“Really it’s… no problem. No problem at all. Um. We only have one key, though. We’ll have to stick together.”

Louis shoots him a playful grin. “Awful. How will we survive?”

Harry frowns to himself. If Louis thinks they’ve been getting on well, maybe he’s abandoning his plan to get Harry fired. Since he and Louis have become closer, Harry decides to voice his concern.

“Does this mean you’ll stop trying to replace me?”

“Never in a million years, Styles. I’ll see the rear end of you yet. In one way or another.”

Harry’s frown deepens, because – Louis sounds like he’s joking.

“Are you joking?”

“One part was a joke,” Louis shrugs. “One part wasn’t. Where’s our room, then?” he asks, turning away.

“Which – which part was the joke?” Harry asks after Louis’ retreating figure. Receiving no answer, Harry decides to just follow him to the elevator.

 

 

***

 

The room is – well, it’s gorgeous. The benefits of working for the company are few and far between, but this.

This is definitely one of them.

The room is spacious, mirrors and glass making up most of the walls – yet cosy, thanks to the large rug that Harry wants to feel beneath his bare feet. The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar, and all he can see from that is bright white and marbled surfaces.

It's beautiful.

“Fancy,” Louis comments as he hauls his bag past Harry and into the room.

“Better than last year,” Harry says slowly, kicking his shoes off and trailing after. Louis flops backwards onto the bed, and the uptight part of Harry thinks, _He’s just messing up the bed in a room that’s not even his_. But there’s another, larger part of him thinking, _What if I just sat in his lap right now?_

The thought is so sudden and unexpected that Harry doesn’t even hear what Louis says. Except, wouldn’t anyone be thinking the same thing? Louis is sprawled across the expensive sheets, arms up behind his head. His feet are planted on the ground and his knees are splayed open. And those jeans are – they’re far too low. Or his shirt is too high. Either way, there’s enough showing that Harry can see the jut of his hipbones, and the only thought he can process is the image of his own knees either side of those hips.

Harry realises, after entirely too long, that Louis had spoken.

“What?”

“I said, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t here.”

“Right. Of course.”

And the substance of this conversation isn’t really going in, not really, when the only thing going through Harry’s mind is _touch touch touch._

“You’re looking at me,” Louis says, and that is definitely enough to startle Harry out of his trance.

“I’m–“

And he stops. What is he going to say, _I wasn’t looking_? He clearly was. Perhaps Louis is used to it – being looked at.

“I was looking,” is what he settles on. And then, “I don’t understand you.”

Louis, ever the slow-moving sensual creature, snaps his eyes open. “You don’t understand me?”

“Are you making fun of me, Louis? I know I’m awkward and I may have some kind of weird crush on you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be rude. Even if you _are_ trying to get me fired. At least have some grace about it.”

Louis sits up, and Harry doesn’t subconsciously note the effortless way he managed it without using his arms. “Crush?”

“That’s what you got from all of that!” Harry exclaims.

“No, I – wait, what? _Fired_? You didn’t think I was serious about that?” Louis seems genuinely confused and – that’s just how Harry feels.

“You weren’t serious?”

“ _Of course_ I wasn’t! You thought I was trying to get you fired?”

“Well–“ Harry wonders if he looks as flustered as he feels. “You kept saying it.”

“I thought you were playing along with the joke, Harry.”

The constant conspiring he’d spend the last few weeks doing must have taken a toll on him, because for a second, Harry thinks this must be some kind of reverse psychology. And then he thinks, that’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous.

And he laughs.

The laughter bubbles up from his chest and he’s helpless to stop it, until Louis is laughing with him.

“You are absolutely _absurd_ , Harry.”

Harry can’t even argue.

“About the crush thing–“ Harry begins, fully intending to backtrack to avoid making even more of a fool of himself.

Louis cuts him off. “I feel the same. I have – I have – a crush. On you. A big, stupid crush. And that – oh, God.” He covers his face with his hands. “That joke about your rear end. That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

And before Harry can stop himself, he says, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

This startles another laugh out of Louis. He peeks out from behind his fingers. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

In the boldest move he’s made since meeting Louis, Harry says, “I’m assuming I get to look at you as much as I want in this deal.”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

Voice low and raspy, Louis says, “You have to come over here and kiss me right now.”

And _fuck_ , Harry can do that. Harry can definitely do that.

No conscious thought goes into the movement when Harry strides across the room and curls his hands around Louis’ shoulders so he can push his torso back to make room on his lap. Louis leans back with the movement, and his hands come up to grip Harry’s hips, thumbs pressing into the flesh.

They move together in one swift movement as Harry takes a seat on Louis’ lap.

One of Harry’s hands slides from Louis’ shoulder to the back of his neck, tilting his head up. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says, leaning forwards until their noses are almost touching. The feeling of breath between them is almost too overwhelming alone.

“Okay,” Louis agrees, and – they’re so close together, the word causes their lips to brush.

Experimentally, Harry flicks his tongue out to lick his lips. His tongue swipes across Louis’ bottom lip in the process, and suddenly, this _isn’t enough_.

Harry closes his eyes and presses forward, pushing their lips together. They only manage to kiss three or four times before Harry’s already insistently nudging his tongue against the seam of Louis’ lips. His mouth opens readily, and, _Jesus fucking Christ_ , in seconds it becomes the _filthiest_ thing Harry has ever experienced in his life. Louis is absolutely everywhere – legs beneath him, tongue in his mouth, hand in his hair, arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Harry can’t breathe, and he doesn’t need to. He just needs Louis.

Louis must need to breathe, though, because he pulls back gasping. Harry immediately uses the hand in his hair to pull his head to the side, exposing his neck. His lips close around the first spot he comes to, and he sucks.

Two things happen at this point: Louis lets out a loud, dirty moan, and simultaneously uses the hands on Harry’s hips to push him down onto his lap, grinding him on his cock, which is – _fuck_ – it’s rock hard.

And Harry absolutely _loses it_. An absolutely obscene whine is startled out of him, and he begins to shamelessly grind against Louis. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Louis chants. “You need – we – off. Get those off.” Louis pushes at Harry’s shirt, not giving up despite how difficult Harry must be making it by squirming and shivering. After Harry’s comes off, Louis pulls off his own, and Harry only thinks to try to help once it’s practically already off. The result is Harry pushing at Louis’ shoulders, causing him to fall back onto the bed.

Despite the state he’s in, Harry takes a second to take in the sight of Louis sprawled back on the bed – just like earlier, except now half-naked, flushed, and panting. In this moment, Harry truly believes there will never be a better vision for any human – until Louis starts to fuss with the button on his jeans. This time, Harry jumps in to help straight away, pulling them all the way down and abandoning them at Louis’ ankles, because that’s too much extra work, and he needs Louis naked _now_.

All that’s left now – Louis’ boxers.

Harry can’t even restrain himself long enough to take them off, because he begins to palm desperately over them, pulling another breathy moan from Louis.

“Take them off, take them off,” Louis says, pushing at the waistband. “Touch me.”

Louis finally tugs the waistband down fully, and his cock bobs up. He lets out a sigh of relief.

Harry doesn’t think twice about leaning down to wrap his lips around the head, doesn’t give Louis any warning.

Louis hisses, kicking one of his legs out and bringing a hand up to thread through Harry’s hair. He doesn’t push, though Harry almost wishes Louis would just _force him down_. Another time, maybe.

“Wait – wait – Harry– Harry– I need to tell you–“

He sinks down lower on Louis’ cock, sucking a little harder. Whatever Louis has to say right now can’t be more important than this.

“Harry, _Harry_. Stop for a second – oh, _fuck, fuck_ , stop for a second.”

Begrudgingly, Harry pulls up and looks at Louis expectantly. He purposely keeps his face as close to Louis’ cock as possible.

“The – the presentation thing. I lied. I wasn’t told to find someone to work with, I–“ He pauses for a full-body shiver. “I just wanted to spend time with you.” He says it like it’s a confession.

“Alright. Anything else?” Harry takes this opportunity to pull off his own trousers. 

Louis puffs out a fast exhale. “I have a room here. I – I saw you walking into the lobby, and I don’t know what came over me. I gave – fuck – I gave the receptionist a fake name so he’d say I didn’t have a room and you would feel bad for me and let me sleep with you. Fuck, that’s so _weird_ , I’m sorry. I understand if – if you want to stop.”

“That’s it?”

Louis’ head drops back. “And I know how you take coffee because I’ve been absolutely obsessed with you since I was transferred. That’s it, that’s it.”

“You said you wanted to sleep with me before,” Harry says quickly. “Does that mean you packed lube?”

Louis covers his face with his hands guiltily. “Yes,” he says through his fingers. “Front pocket of the duffel.”

Harry makes quick work of rummaging around to find the lube and a condom. By the time he has them, he’s been away from Louis' lips far too long, so he drapes his body across Louis’, bringing their lips together and pressing the sachet of lube into Louis’ hand.

Two seconds can’t pass before Harry hears the sound of the packet being torn open, and it’s not two seconds after that before he feels a hand grab at one of his arse cheeks and gentle fingers prodding at his hole.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whines lowly, pushing his lower body up onto his knees so he can spread his legs wider to better accommodate Louis.

Louis groans in tandem, loudening when he pushes a finger inside and all the way up to the knuckle.

The intrusion is sudden but, fuck, does it feel amazing. Harry pulls back from the kiss and rests his head in the crook of Louis’ neck, whimpering softly as Louis begins to press in a second finger.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Louis whispers as he scissors his fingers. “Gonna take my dick, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Harry whines, beginning to rock his hips. “ _Fuck me_.”

Harry almost cries from relief when he hears the sound of a foil packet being torn open, and moments later, the feeling of something hot, wet, and _big_ pressing against his hole. “Please,” he whispers into Louis’ neck, and that must do _something_ , because his hips jolt up and Harry is suddenly letting out a surprised yelp at the feeling of being impaled all at once by Louis’ cock.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers, completely and utterly overwhelmed. “Fuck, _Louis_.”

“You feel–“ Louis pauses to take a breath. “You feel fucking amazing. Tell me – when I can move.”

Harry lifts his hips so he’s almost empty. “Now, please, now, _Louis, fuck me.”_

Harry expects it this time when Louis instinctively bucks his hips upwards, filling Harry right up again and making him cry out. He doesn’t stop this time, and Harry does his best to hold himself up on his knees while Louis fucks up into him over and over.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long when they started, but it’s barely a minute before Harry feels the tightness in his abdomen, hears his desperate moans get louder and louder. “Louis, Louis, _Louis_ ,” Harry chants, as he feels his orgasm build up and up and up until his vision clouds up and he lets the feeling of pure, intense pleasure wash over him in waves.

He’s barely coming back to reality when he feels Louis’ bruising grip on his hips as he pushes Harry as far down on his cock as he will go. Harry snaps his eyes open to watch – he can’t let himself miss the way Louis’ eyes scrunch up, the way his mouth falls open as he fills up the condom.

They sit, panting, in that position for minutes afterwards, until Harry finds the energy to speak. “That was incredible.”

“That was… incredible,” Louis agrees.

They sit for another few moments before Louis has to ease out of Harry and settle them both down in the bed, with his arms looped around Harry’s waist and his nose pressing against Harry’s overheated neck. Over the covers. Since going under them would be too much work.

On the precipice of sleep, Harry mutters, “You’ll be here tomorrow, won’t you?”

“It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you, babe. There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do,” Louis responds.

Harry lets himself smile, since Louis can’t see, but says, “You’re the only person in the world who would ever quote _Africa_ after sex.”

Harry feels a small puff of air on his neck. “Well now you’re stuck with me.” He punctuates the point by squeezing the arms wrapped around Harry.

“Good.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
